


Lathbora Viran

by shemlentrash (Jess_X)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Consensual Kink, Dominance/submission, F/M, Mild S&M, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, dominant solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_X/pseuds/shemlentrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The group makes camp for the night after a mission that left Lavellan severely wounded. Feeling vulnerable, she wants only one thing. Solas, brazened by his relief that she survived the day, is bold enough to put aside his usual looming qualms and give in to her lascivious insistence. "Da'len... we are outside," he reminded her in a low, gentle voice. "In plain view of our companions. Please have patience, little one." But she had the stubbornness of a young girl, and she desired with a flame he had never seen matched. It seemed futile to argue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lathbora Viran

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: (1) I probably did not edit this enough. (2) This story is just shameless smut with a pinch of angst. Read at your own discretion. (3) Sexual kink abounds, including imbalanced power dynamics, some sadism and masochism, the use of gags, face slapping, and brief choking. (4) The smut does take place in private, but it is audible to all. Just in case that bothers you. (5) Use of the word "cunt." I know that word can really piss some folks off, so... just a warning.

Long shadows stretched across the barren expanse of sand and rock before them. The sun was sinking low and would disappear completely by the time the hour was up. Solas sighed, squinting ahead of him through the dust at the Inquisitor some feet beyond. She led the group as ever, but this evening she was not feeling particularly chatty.

“I believe,” Solas called up to her, “it may be a good time to camp for the night.” He could read the wound in her shoulder from the way she carried her arm, and sense the weight of the world emanating from her tired posture.

Rhona’s heavy footsteps slowed, and she turned to look at him. The other two stopped, as well. The Warden clapped his hands together, a sound muffled by the leather of his gloves. “Well, thank the Maker,” he said heartily. “I’m fucking starving.” He chuckled, throwing his pack to the ground and rustling around inside it. Cole let his bag slide to the ground with a soft thump, causing a little cloud of dust to dissipate around his ankles.

The boy blinked at Solas, who was leaning now on his staff, his ankles crossed. “Yes,” said the spirit dreamily. “Rest. Can’t walk from the piercing pain, clawing its way into my bones like the rats when I was twelve, but at least – ” He smiled, looking up at the golden-violet sky. “At least there is his skin, and there’s his mouth, and at least now there will be sleep to pass the pain through.” Cole shook his head and cocked it curiously. “I do not understand. “

Blackwall laughed loudly as he started to set out materials for camp. “Trust me, Cole,” he said, and he looked mildly disturbed. “You don’t want to.”

“I do,” Cole said, looking utterly bewildered. “I’ve tried… but… I still do not understand how touch and tongue and sighs can heal a wound.”

Solas cleared his throat and straightened his posture. Although Blackwall was looking fairly pink, and Rhona had wandered some distance from the conversation, Solas had little shame. “A lover’s touch can not heal physical wounds, Cole,” he explained. “But it can create a psychological atmosphere in which a person’s pain may be harder to feel. One sensation can overshadow another for some time, when the mind is properly occupied.”

“A lover’s touch,” Cole repeated, looking wistful. “Everybody aches for it. Why?”

At this, Blackwall snorted. “Maker’s balls - I’ve already gone over the beard thing with you. There’s no chance in heaven that I’m giving you _the talk_ , boy.”

“What talk?”

Leaving an overwhelmed looking Warden and an innocently curious spirit to their uncomfortable moment, Solas moved around them to venture after the Inquisitor. She was sitting on a rock a couple of yards away, clutching her arm, her eyes closed and her brow knitted beneath her ginger bangs, which were dry and flecked with sand.

“ _Ma vhenan_ ,” he cooed, reaching out to brush a strand of her hair behind her long ear. “How is your shoulder?”

Rhona looked up at him. Her face was stiff, but he saw right through her, and she knew it. He loved that about her – she had such incredible strength, such intense power, and it only ever seemed to crumble under his gaze.  She gave a noncommittal jerk of her head.

Walking around her to sit next to her, he sighed, and took her hand in his. He watched her expression melt at his touch, and felt her fingers tremble. “Tell me what is wrong, _da’len_.”

“I guess,” she said slowly, blinking up at him and looking very vulnerable. “Sometimes, I forget I’m not invulnerable.”

“That would be foolish of you,” Solas said honestly, but there was a lump in his throat. He sometimes forgot it, too. Today he had been reminded. He supposed they both had been. “I wish that I could say no blade would ever take you from me, _vhenan_ ,” and he squeezed her hand gently, “but reality insists you are but flesh and blood as anyone else.”

She shook her head, looking amused. “You sure know how to comfort a girl,” she said with a laugh. “There’s just so much pressure on me to be this picture of strength, y’know? Everybody looks to me. I guess I worry that they’ll see just how mortal I really am if I ever get so injured I can’t fight anymore.”

“That will not happen,” Solas said sternly, and she pursed her lips, growing a little flush.

“Weren’t you just saying a moment ago that I should accept the reality of being mortal?”

“I – ” She raised her eyebrows at him as he hesitated. “Well, yes,” he admitted, staring into the skyline so that the glowing sunset shimmered in his intense eyes. “But I will never let anyone hurt you,” he said quietly. “To the best of my ability I will always protect you.” He said it all without thinking, his heart sinking as reality struck him and he remembered that _always_ had an expiration date, and it was surely looming closer. It was too painful to think about now, though. For now, he was happy to live in this world of fantasy where he would never be forced to leave his love, and he could protect her as he so desired until the day it killed him. For now, he was content to forget.

Rhona touched his cheek, and he turned back to her, searching her face hungrily. “Sweet talker,” she whispered, and the corner of his mouth twitched as the memory of their earliest flirtations swam to mind. “That certainly explains the way you wailed on that assassin today.”

He thought on it. The group had assumed – for a sweet minute – that the Venatori camp had been cleared out. They’d stood panting, surrounded by bodies, when Blackwall had let out a booming laugh. “Idiots,” he’d said. Rhona patted her homemade bow lovingly, and began to swing it over her back again. Her guard was down, and without warning a massive puff of smoke enveloped her. She had disappeared from view in the blink of an eye, and Solas remembered how his heart leapt in his throat and he thought he might very well crash through the earth itself, filled with a terror so great it was as though his body had suddenly become lead. “Inquisitor!” Blackwall had shouted, but Solas could not speak. He gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles were white. Fear fueled a violent power raging in his gut, and the moment the smoke had cleared, he lunged.

Normally one to fight at range, Solas had leapt upon the man as a dog would, crushing him to the ground with a knee to the chest, and with a bellow he sent a jolt of electricity rocketing through the assassin’s skeleton. Blackened and sizzling, the man crumbled under the mage’s weight. “ _Emma lath_ ,” Solas had whispered hastily to himself, anxiety gripping him tight in the unknown. He had scrambled to his feet and rushed towards her limp form. Rhona was lying face down, bleeding profusely from a deep stab wound at the back of her shoulder. She was unconscious.

Solas remembered the agony building in his gut, the struggle to force back his welling emotions, and his desperate pleas for her to wake. With what healing magic he could muster, and what remained of their bottled potions, the mage had healed her, but a throbbing scar remained, and hours later the wound still stung.

“I just feel so… stupid,” she said, and she was laughing. “All the fighting we do…. All these giants, dragons, darkspawn, and archdemons… and all it took was a split second unawares, for some run-of-the-mill human assassin to bring me down.” She shook her head, looking genuinely ashamed. “If you hadn’t been there…”

“Stop,” he choked, and she noticed his brow was deeply furrowed. He was glaring. “Do not think on it, _da’len_. You are well. That is all that matters now. I told you I want to protect you, and that’s what I did. And I plan on continuing to do so, Inquisitor, with your approval.”

“Inquisitor,” she repeated, mocking him. “So formal.”

“Oh, _ma vhenan_ ,” he said lovingly, leaning against her.

“Much nicer.” She closed her eyes as he pressed his forehead against her hair. She enjoyed feeling his breath on her cheek. “Thank you, Solas.”

“Hmmm?” His lips found the line of her jaw.

She let out a sharp exhale as the feel of his mouth sent a lurch of desire through her body. “For saving my life,” she clarified quietly. “Again.”

“And thank you for not dying,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You have not been so badly injured in quite some time. Not since before we…” He broke off, lip twitching into the slightest of smirks. “Well. Anyway. I suppose today was also my first taste of losing you to the inevitability of mortality and time.” He kissed her neck, brushing a few strands out of the way. “I shall admit, dear heart, that… I was frightened.” Her eyes softened. Then he straightened up. “But enough about me,” he said promptly. “You need never feel stupid for being injured, _da’len_. These things do happen.”

“I know, it’s just – ”

“You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. I know that, _emma lath_. But nowhere is it written that you must carry that burden alone.”

“That weight just sometimes makes me forget that I’m… well, just a person.”

Solas cupped her face in his pale hands. “I understand.”

He kissed her slowly, and she tasted of blood and bliss. He took time and care with the movement of his tongue, languid and sensual, so that by the time he broke the connection for a minute, he was rewarded with a long sigh of frustration and desire from the slender woman in his arms. “See?” He smiled. “Just a person.” Rhona gave a small laugh and tried to turn her head away, but he forced her to face him with a hand at her chin. “Allow me to lift your burdens and share in them, just as I share your pleasures, _vhenan_ ,” he said in the lowest and softest of voices. “Grant me that honor.”

She sighed into his touch, letting her eyes flutter closed. “You are very grounding, y’know? When I’m with you, Solas, _emma lath_ , I feel – ” A small shrug. “I don’t know.  Like – I’m just me, for once. Despite how they venerate me… I am no god.” She chuckled while his stomach twisted into knots, but he ignored the sensation.

“Precisely, _da’len_ ,” he whispered, a little hoarse.

Her tiny giggle was most intoxicating to him. Unable to stop himself, he ran his fingers through her hair, and continued to do so as though petting a small animal. “I love when you call me that,” she said meekly, eyes falling closed as he pet her.

He smirked. “I know you do.”

“It makes me feel so… small.”

Rhona leaned her head on his shoulder, opening her eyes again, and together they watched Blackwall finishing the second small tent, only slightly difficult to see in the darkness. Cole seemed to be examining a stick on the ground with great interest, and the Warden was huffing at the poor boy in irritation.

Solas stroked the side of the Inquisitor’s face, his touch both tender and protective. “Should I have been helping them erect the tents this evening?” he asked, looking hesitant.

“I don’t care,” she said, nuzzling into the shoulder of his furs.

He kissed her hair, a grin splitting across his face. “Careful,” he chuckled. “In this climate, I believe my robes are a bit dustier now than you are used to. Don’t breathe it in too much!”

They were both covered in a thin layer of sand from head to toe. There was really no need for him to point this out – but he worried for her anyway, as he always did.

Looking contemplative, Rhona pushed herself to sit upright again, rubbing her arm. “You’re right,” she said.

“Of course I am.”

She whacked him playfully on the arm. “I mean,” she went on in a hushed tone, “that robe is _particularly_ dirty.” She toyed with the fraying edges of his sleeve. “Such a shame,” she said, and the exaggerated air of her voice did not escape him. He was catching on. “I simply _hate_ to see you in such dirty clothes, Solas.” She was pouting now, the fresh little minx. He wanted to lunge forward and grab that lip between his teeth. “We really ought to… get you out of them as soon as possible… wouldn’t you say?” Even she could not hold the pout for much longer, and it broke into a wide smile, shining with deviancy.

The proud older elf rolled his eyes at the childish behavior of his lover, but the sweet innocence with which she lured him was so tempting. Her girlish flirting was decadent to him. “ _Da’len_ ,” he said warningly, and he watched her swoon at his condescending tone. He stroked her hair again, this time pausing briefly to tug at her scalp. These subtle implications of his power and dominance always undid her. He loved that about her. She winced and blushed simultaneously, and he tutted at her. “We are outside,” he reminded her in a low, gentle voice. “In plain view of our companions,” he added. At this point it seemed futile to even attempt arguing with her. Rhona had the stubbornness of a young girl, and she desired with a flame he had never seen matched.

Eyes twinkling and breath ragged, she put a hand on his thigh. “But I’m injured,” she teased, trying to sound coy but mostly giggling her way through it.

“All the more reason – ”

She kissed his palm sensually, reverently, and slowly moved her lips along the delicate veins of his wrist, tracing them up across his muscular forearm. He forgot his words, and moaned lightly. “You’re always so reserved when we’re out together. You need to get over that. And besides, they will probably be sleeping soon,” she breathed against his stark white skin.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” he said shakily. “What has gotten into you? You are rarely _this_ … affectionate… when we are traveling.”

With a laugh, she threw up her hands in admission. “It was you! That stupid protective thing you do. It’s… pretty arousing.”

“My protectiveness… arouses you, does it?” But the words were hard to choke out, for her hand had slid upwards to rest on the crotch of his breeches. He had to bite his tongue to keep from emitting a small groan. Slowing his breathing with great determination, he lazily wrapped his hand around her tiny wrist and pulled it away. “Being a little forward, now, aren’t we?” He used exactly the sort of patronizing voice he knew would unravel her. “I do not believe I said that you could touch me, _emm’asha_.” She shuddered.

Neither of them seemed to realize that the sun had gone down some time ago. They were too wrapped up in one another. “Please have more patience, my little one. I know that is difficult for you, sweet _da’len_ , but do try your best.” He had her squirming already. Magnificent. Truly. Whenever the desire took them, Solas found it surprisingly easy to read the Inquisitor, as though at the flip of a switch. This was not so true at other times, but when arousal gripped her, she was simply putty in his willing hands.

She pouted excessively, holding onto her shoulder as she leaned against him, knocking her knees against his where they sat. “How come you’re always so reserved under the public eye, hm?”

He chuckled gently. “I’m not always,” he stated with a shrug.

“You are!” She laughed heartily, and it warmed his heart to see her light up this way. “The most I ever get when we’re out together where people can see us is a squeeze of the hand or a brief lingering embrace.”

Smiling, he stared thoughtfully at their friends. Blackwall was now sitting in at the flap of one of the tents, tugging off his boots, while Cole used the stick he’d found earlier to poke around in the dirt. “You are the Inquisitor,” he reminded her. “Many out there would lose respect for you to know you were bedding an apostate.” She snorted. “As for our immediate associates, well – I suppose I’ve never wanted to embarrass you. I’m not their favorite person, most of them.”

“They already know, though,” she said. “And I could never be embarrassed by you, Solas. I…” She swallowed, and he looked down at her seriously as she hesitated. “Well,” she stuttered. “You know that I love you. Don’t you?”

Solas sighed, insides on fire with shame and fear, but it held no candle to the love and need for her that bloomed in his chest. “Yes, my heart,” he said tenderly, touching her face. “And I love you _terribly_.” He knew it could not escape her notice how sad he sounded, but it was his way. She did not question it anymore. He wished she would. He wished she could see through him, and know, and break things off so he would not have to. But it would never happen. She loved him. For all things holy, Rhona loved him with her last breath, and it was more than he ever felt he deserved. He was constantly overwhelmed by both his good fortune and by the dread this relationship filled him with.

Then she was kissing him again, and her mouth pierced through his thoughts like one of her arrows, electrifying the unforgiving air of the desert around them and steeling him for anything, He groaned, uncontrollably, when her tongue curled between his lips. The sensation of her wet, warm mouth sent sparks to his groin. The animalistic passion that burned between them was overpowering, and it threatened to consume them both. He couldn’t take it. He needed to take control of things again. He pushed her away. She looked momentarily hurt, then he saw he was grinning deviously. “Little one,” he cooed, tracing the tips of her ears with his thumbs. “You must have patience.” When she pouted again, he chuckled – the sound low and sweet. “Ah, you see?” He gestured to the camp. “Our good Warden has already retired. You must not worry and get ahead of yourself, child. I will take care of you. I will take care of everything.”

Rhona swooned at his words. He took her delicate hands in his, and stood, gently bringing her to her feet with him. “Cole is a spirit,” he reminded her. “Asleep or not, he will likely sense us anyway. In fact – I’m not even entirely certain he _does_ sleep. I should inquire on that…”

She laughed. “Well _that’s_ reassuring.”

“Has that changed your mind, _da’len_?” he asked, now running his fingers down her neck and over the swell of her breasts. His fingertips cut a path through the thin layer of dust on her armor. The desert was really the worst climate for this to be happening, but he didn’t want it to stop. “Are you now discouraged from your indecent intentions?”

Shaking her head, she leaned into him. “No, _Hahren_ ,” she breathed. “Let him hear us. Let them all hear us. They should all know.”

Relieved, Solas chuckled, reveling in her deviance, and amused by the way she elevated him with the title of Elder. “Know what, exactly, my girl?” He nuzzled the side of her face, teasing her just by being close. His breath was hot on her ear, and he could feel her shudder. It pleased him.

“What you do to me,” she said with a slight giggle. “They should all know… how much you give me.”

He shook his head, and tightened his hands around her waist possessively. “Oh, love - you are wicked.” She giggled loudly this time, and he could not stop grinning. “Perhaps what they should really know, if they must know anything, is not how much I give you, but how much I _take from you_.” His voice was a low growl, the lust rising in his belly. “And how much of you is really mine.” He was practically holding her to keep her on her feet now, and her chest was heaving. It made him laugh.

Rhona seemed to have lost all her bearings. “Solas, _Hahren_ ,” she whispered, planting fast kisses along the line of his jaw and wrapping her good arm around his neck. “Please… _nuvenin_ , Solas.” His smile had become dreamy under her mouth’s barrage. He felt very far away, intoxicated on her desperation. He was on the verge of losing control and shoving her to the ground right here in the dirt, under the open sky, in plain view of the camp and the path home.

Stopping himself from going too far too soon, he yanked his head out of her grasp, and gave her a small slap across the face. It was lighter than the hits she was used to, but it was still surprising. She yelped quietly. It was really more of a shocked whimper. The impact fueled her fire, and her eyes grew heavy with lust. She was panting, fingers grasping at the ties of his robes. He looked very stern, making her shiver and desire to undress him even more. He loved that this was what made her weak. “ _Da’len_ ,” he warned. “What did I tell you?”

She gulped. “I must… be patient,” she said sadly, lips curling in a half pout, half smile.

“Good girl,” he murmured into her ear. “You _do_ remember what happens when you do not listen, do you not, _emm’asha_?” She splayed her fingers on his chest, feeling his heart, and savoring the vibrations of his rumbling low voice.

With a rattling sigh, she nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze and instead taking in the lines of his neck. He knew she was thinking of it – the last time she had been deliberately bratty while he was in control of her. He had thrown her over the table in his study and beaten her with a leather strap until she begged. She had not been able to ride her mount for the next day. She had told Leliana she was “ill,” and needed the day off – just so that she would not be sent out on missions. By the look on her face, he could tell this was a pleasing memory to recall. “ _Hahren_ ,” she moaned. “Please give me what I want.” His insides stirred desirously at her plea, but he knew she loved to be denied.

“Hush, needy child,” he said sharply. “You will be given whatever I wish to give, and you will be grateful.” His voice was husky and she drank it in as though it were the air she breathed. The power he had over this woman struck him with awe on a daily basis.

Moving to stand on her good side, Solas clutched her forearm tightly. Her eyes were heavy with lust now and, he thought, his probably were shining too. He ached for the sight of her writhing underneath him, legs forced apart, and his veins were simply crawling with the need to hear her shuddering sighs of ecstasy.  

Tugging her by the arm, gently but with enough force that she could feel without question his authority, he began to walk with her towards the camp. Grabbing her bow quickly as he swept her away, she followed with a girlish giggle that wouldn’t stop. Thankfully, Blackwall was nowhere to be seen. Cole was a yard away, playing in the sand. Thankful for Cole’s distance and Blackwall’s exhaustion, Solas let go of her. Pulling the linen back to expose the inside of the empty tent, he bowed and stepped back to let the Inquisitor pass. She entered, swooping to get through the opening, and he followed after taking a single long breath in to ground himself.

Her giggling never ceased, even as she knelt on the tarp, looking up at him. Oh, how he wished there was room to remain standing. He so loved when she knelt for him.

“Aw, my dear girl,” Solas whispered. “Something really must be done about that giggling. You sound terribly childish, and you’ll rouse our companions. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we, _da’len_?”

She shook her head, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her giggles were muffled, but still audible.

He sat in front of her, perched on his heels. “I did not quite catch that, child,” he said darkly. He was smirking, but he kept his tone serious. He pulled her hand from her face, and gripped her wrist tightly, digging into her pale skin with his nails. She loved that. He knew.

“N- no, _Hahren_ ,” She wore a look of obvious struggle as she held back her laughter. He watched as she went red in the face.

“ _Emm’asha_ ,” he said very quietly. “I want you to remove your armor now, and I expect you to do so in perfect silence.” She looked suddenly apprehensive and serious, her eyes wide and bright like a small child expecting to be scolded. Her reaction told him she understood and that she was becoming helpless to his will. He loved this part. Solas loved watching her give in. He wished that in this state he could tell her to run – to stop loving him… to get out while she could. But he could not. He was the weak one, truly. Weak to his heart, and to her love for him.

She scooted back from him, and began to remove her armor piece by piece. He sat back, swinging his legs around so that he could be cross-legged, and watched her with interest. But as she moved to unfasten her armored boots, Rhona broke out into a suppressed grin again. He raised his eyebrows, cautioning her, but it was too late. A quick snort of laughter transitioned smoothly into another fit of giggles, and it seemed she could not stop. “ _Da’len_ ,” he snapped in a low rumble. “I believe I was quite clear.”

“I know,” she whined, still giggling and continuing to undress, “but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that we’re in the middle of nowhere… with our friends… and all I want – ” Her grin was spectacular. “I want so badly to fuck you, Solas.”

 Solas shook his head. “You are quite vulgar, little one,” he whispered dangerously. “And I really am going to have to do something about that giggling for you, then, aren’t I?” Searching around him and feeling along the length of his shabby robes, he considered this. Then, as his hand met the strap cinching his waist, he smiled. He waited, first. “Go on,” he said under his breath. “Finish removing your clothing. I want you bare for me.”

Licking her lips, and still trying to suppress giggles, Rhona moved on to her tunic last. She pulled it over her head carefully to avoid her healing wound, and he emitted a soft hiss as her tender breasts were revealed to him. Smiling more widely now, she undid the tie at her waistband, and proceeded to shuffle out of them.

“You may leave your smallclothes on, child,” Solas said curtly. “Now, come here.” He made a beckoning gesture to her, and she came obediently, on all fours, to wait expectantly on her calves in front of him.

Her eyes widened. He had removed the belt from his robes, and was examining it. He knew she was once again remembering the night he had whipped her with a similar instrument, but that was nothing he could pull off tonight. “Be not afraid, _da’vhenan_ ,” He lifted the strap to her face. Her heart was thumping violently. She was both excited and a little bit frightened – which was exactly how he liked her. “Open,” he instructed simply, and she opened her mouth wide immediately, as though she were a puppet he controlled. She might as well have been. The belt was made of a soft, pliable fabric, which did not hurt when she let her jaw rest again. “Good, good girl,” he breathed. He tied the belt behind her head expertly, and as he brought his arms back, he allowed his fingers to brush her cheeks. She swooned again.

The plan worked, anyway. The giggles had stopped. They were instead replaced with a seemingly permanent shiver, but this could be allowed. Gagged and panting, eyes heavily hooded under the pressure of her torturous lust, Solas thought she looked stunning. It mattered not that they were still covered in dust and flecked with blood. She was everything he needed and his body was crying out for her. Something of the wolf was pining his chest as it often did when they became intimate. She brought out a side of him he rarely showed and often forgot existed. She always seemed to love it, but he worried it was dangerous.

The way her chest rose and fell with her jagged breaths elicited a sweet grin from him. She was silent now. “I quite like you this way,” he chuckled under his breath, and she glared at him playfully.

Her expression was wiped clean off her face however when he reached out to her and stroked her hair lovingly. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a sort of half-moan that was really very close to a purr. It went right through him, coursing in his veins with a frustrated ache. “Lie back,” he muttered, and – looking slightly nervous, but mostly eager – Rhona lay back slowly, carefully resting her shoulder in a position that was comfortable.

Solas crawled over her languidly, pushing a leg between her soft, trembling thighs. He rested his hips exactly where it would tease her most, and he reveled in the sight of her eyes rolling back and her fingers grasping at his chest. With a half smile, he ducked down to plant a gentle kiss on her injured shoulder. She gasped.

He switched sides, placed a hand over her mouth for extra soundproofing, and sank his teeth into the flesh where shoulder meets neck. He could feel her explosive reaction beneath him – her heart rate rising, breath hot and uneven against his palm, hips thrusting, begging his for contact. It was thrilling. He was growing harder by the second, and at the feel of it she lifted a leg, widening the space between her legs so that he could feel the warmth of her through her flimsy smallclothes. As her thigh slid torturously up his hip, he bit down harder, sucking slightly as he did. Her muffled moan was long and warm under his hand. He smirked through the skin in his teeth.

As soon as her moan became a whimper of pain, he let go. Her entire body seemed to deflate, relaxed and desirous. He planted kisses over the mark he had left, enjoying her suppressed, broken, tremulous gasps. Solas was lavishing the bruise with his tongue, when one of her hands crept up instinctively to hold onto the back of his head. He pulled away from this, and she whined through the leather pressing her tongue in place.

“Hands to yourself, _emm’ash_ a,” the proud elf whispered. He loved how this was driving her crazy; unable to speak, and now unable to touch him? She would surely be begging soon, at this rate.

He sat up on his knees between her legs, and shrugged off the outer layer of his robes. With a lick of his lips, he removed the fraying tunic underneath, and he watched Rhona squirm as her wide blue gaze devoured the sight of his torso hungrily. Her fingers were wriggling at her sides, and he could feel her feet doing a dance of their own somewhere behind him. “I know,” he patronized breathily. “I know, _vhenan_. Do not worry. I will take care of you.” And he meant it. Mythal, he loved her. It was dangerous how much and how possessively he loved her. Right now, though, with her naked figure heaving below him and his erection throbbing, it was difficult to touch base with reality. It was easy, however, to go on forgetting. And so he did.

He glanced straight down, eyes meeting her wide hips delightedly, taking in her curves. “I always take care of you, _da’vhenan_ ,” he reiterated, fingers trailing to the hem of her smalls. “Don’t I?”

She nodded fiercely, bucking her hips forward slightly instinctively, sighing as he walked his long fingers downward.

When he pressed against her folds from the outside of the fabric, feeling how incredibly damp they were, she forgot herself, and moaned loudly.

Solas slapped her, just gently enough that it made little sound, but enough that she felt a sting. Her entire body lurched beneath him, and it made his erection ache even more. He took her face in his hand, and held her head still, so that their eyes were locked. He bore into her with such presence and authority, that she seemed on the verge of melting. “Silence,” he hissed sternly.

There was a cough from the other tent, and they could hear items shuffling around. Footsteps, too, could be heard – light ones that seemed aimless. Solas smiled wickedly, an idea that might have seemed out of his character now stewing in his mind. He put a finger to his lip warningly, and then let go of her face, backing away from her. She looked at him questioningly, expression desperate.

But her face went from frustrated to fearful in a matter of moments as she realized what he was doing. He was hoisting her legs over his shoulders and bringing his chest to the ground. He watched her eyes as he pulled aside the material hiding her away, and relished the rapid shift in emotion. From irritated to frightened, and then to unhinged ecstasy as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her clitoris.

Though her breathing was a bit loud, she made no other sounds. She was obviously struggling against her very nature, which was to scream out to the heavens – begging to all her gods. Oh, if only she knew what the man who fucked her senseless really was. He often wondered if she would still cry out his name, then, or if some other title would grace her lips (though, more likely, he would never be able to touch her again, if she really knew).

He reached up, and took her hands in his, curling their fingers together and holding on for dear life as he delicately slid his tongue across the length of her. He knew she wanted him to have at her, to fuck her with his mouth, his fingers, his cock, and to let her come, but he was much more content to tease on this night. As her hips thrust against him, he scolded her with a sharp whack on the back of her hand, and she fell still.

Then, Cole’s quiet voice wafted through the thin linen of the tent. “She does not know,” he said, and Solas’ stomach turned. “He is more than he is, but he is still hers. Still hers. And she is his. But she will hurt, later.” His voice was a little on edge, and sounded confused.

Solas dove. He felt her fingers tighten around his own, felt her holding her breath as he licked and sucked and made circles around her opening. He had to force one of his hands out of her grasp to do what he wanted next, and it was worth the silent battle. He slid two fingers into her, mouth still making love to her clitoris just above where he entered her. It was very wet, and she was dripping over his knuckles by the time he began to move his hand ever so slowly.

“He… he makes her… feel…” Cole’s voice was shrill now, and Solas could hear Blackwall stirring. He smirked uncontrollably against the Inquisitor’s cunt, feeling outrageously smug, and luckier than he could describe. “Like an earthquake. Is it over yet? Creators, is it… ?”

Her back arched as she clawed at the tarp beneath her, and he sensed that she could not take much more. He knew her body language too well. Removing his face from between her legs and licking the taste of her from his lips, he continued to beckon pleasure from her within the tight confines of her cunt. He sped up slightly, thrusting into her in such a manner as to remind her what was coming. She was shaking her head, eyes shut tightly, fighting her instincts to remain obedient. Nothing was more beautiful than that.

“His other name, a word lost to legend, broken by the centuries of whispering,” Cole said, just as Solas removed his fingers from her – for she was writhing, red in the face, and agonized by frustration. “It will hurt – it will swallow her whole as it did to everything once.” Solas’ breathing was very shallow. He could not wait. As he undid the tie of his breeches, with his other hand he stretched the fabric of her smalls. They were unusable now. Cole’s dreamy voice went on, “She will be destroyed just as she is torn apart now by just his other name, shattered by his touch and by his kiss... so, too, will she be taken by the beast.”

Solas slid into her and they both gasped at the heat. Passion raged in him, quaking in his bones as he held down her arms on either side of her head, and thrust slowly – once, twice, watching her lurch under his weight each time. The pleasure of being buried inside his lover was heady and sweet. He wanted to feel this way forever.

“A clash of fur and claws, red hair matted with blood and semen…”

Rhona’s eyes were wide, and he could not tell if she was hearing Cole’s ranting. Solas’ guard was down, and he was certain Cole was reading into his fears, which were surely screaming plenty for the poor spirit to pick up on. But he didn’t care. Letting go of her wrists, Solas lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders again, and he thrust in so deeply they both moaned without thinking.

“Blackwall,” Cole was saying. “I am worried.”

The Inquisitor’s shaking hands found the mage’s backside, and she dug her fingernails into his skin, pulling him as close as she could, as though hoping she could absorb him through her cunt. He was overcome. Solas’ head was spinning, and he felt he was going to fall over the edge of earth, or something akin to it. He could not be close enough to her. He wondered if it would ever be enough.

A groggy and irritable deep voice came from somewhere very close to them. “What the fuck are you on about, boy? I need to sleep, damn it, so this better be good.”

“So afraid,” Cole said in a wavering voice. “He’s… so afraid, and sees so much pain even if he can’t touch it yet – and she is crying, screaming, suffering, yet her nerves are laughing? There is a light… like ecstasy… that’s burning, but the fear is so loud and the weird twisted agony is in unison now and I don’t understand it. So I’m worried.” There was a pause during which Solas kissed her knee and a bit of her calf where it lay thrown across his shoulder still. He did not stop or slow in his thrusts, and he was impressed by Rhona’s capacity for silence when it came down to it. She looked like it was killing her, though, and he watched gleefully as she utilized her tongue to fidget with the gag. She was drooling slightly, which could not be helped.

“Speak English, kid,” Blackwall grunted. “You’re worried because…?”

“They are afraid… but, at different octaves… and… I heard them make sounds. Sounds like pain. Sounds like surprise. I’m not certain.”

Solas could not contain his amusement, and he hung his head with silent laughter. Her face too was alight with the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What…?”

He raised his eyebrows at Rhona, questioning her silently. _Should I stop?_ In response to this look, the Inquisitor gave his buttocks another squeeze, and held him deep within her again. _Never stop_ , she was saying.

So he went on, ravaging her bruising cunt with such force that she could not prevent her squeals of blended pleasure and pain.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, boy!” Blackwall exclaimed loudly at this. “You woke me up just to tell me that my friends are going at it?”

“I don’t understand,” Cole said again, and Blackwall made a noise of disgust deep in the back of his throat.

“Well,” the Warden said, just as Rhona’s bliss was mounting. “If you don’t get it, I’m not going to explain it. They’re fine. Trust me on that. There is no one to help here. Just… get some rest, kid. Ugh. Maker’s breath.”

With a low growl, Solas scraped red lines down the pearly white flesh of her thigh, then clutched her hips to brace his violent thrusts. She could not hold it back any longer. She was moaning, still sounding strained as though she were trying not to, and still muffled through the gag, but it was plenty audible. The gag had become obsolete. At that realization, Solas, slipped it out of her mouth so it hung limply around her neck, and reveled in the glorious noise of relief she made. “Solas,” she cried, and he bit his lip at the sound of his name of her lips as he fucked her. It was unreal.

He leaned down, releasing her legs from their perch, and crashed his hungry mouth against hers. She kissed him so ferociously that one would think she was starved for it. “More,” she breathed as his tongue invaded her wanting mouth. “More. _Hahren_. I need – “

There was no thought beforehand, and he gave no warning. It seemed instinct had taken over completely for a moment as he wrapped one hand around her pretty throat, and squeezed. She went immediately breathless, and was very slowly losing strength in her limbs, but her eyes were on fire. _More_ , they shrieked. _Please_.

Tightening his grip on her neck, his mouth fell open in delighted surprise at how much this seemed to work for her. And he – well, he felt his pleasure building right on cue. “ _Ma’arlath, da’len_ ,” Solas breathed, and he let out a primal grunt of ecstasy as the orgasm struck him. When her eyes began to flutter closed, her face colored pink, he let go, and both of them moaned as the air rushed back into her. She laughed lightly, in a breathless daze, and he felt her hand slip between their bodies to help herself meet him at his level, and soon they were coming together, and she was completely full of him, crying out into the night for Mythal as she forgot their surroundings entirely.

Panting, he rolled off of her, and as he collapsed beside her she was once again reduced to giggles. He shook his head fondly at her, waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

“Fucking finally!” Blackwall shouted, and Solas smirked – not embarrassed, but instead proud. “Now go the fuck to sleep! … Your Worship,” he added as an afterthought, as though remembering suddenly that he was speaking not only to a friend, but technically to a figure of authority.

Rhona laughed. “Will do, friend,” she called, and they could hear him grumbling and turning in the other tent.

The Inquisitor curled against her mage, and rested her head in the crevice of his chest – her favorite spot. “Thank you,” she breathed, tracing circles along his abdomen.

“Thank _you_ , _emma lath_ ,” said Solas. His hand was in her hair, softly playing with it. “You made me open up. I feel shiny and new.” He laughed gently, and she hugged him close. They were drenched in sweat, and their skin was grainy with sand, but they didn’t care. “How is your shoulder?”

“Oh!” Rhona laughed, and looked up at him. “Do you know… I actually forgot about it! It doesn’t even seem to hurt anymore!”

He grinned. “I suppose the pain was mostly in your mind,” he said quietly.

“I suppose…” She looked thoughtful, suddenly. “Hey, Solas?”

“Mm.”

“What was Cole going on about? Were you listening?”

His heart sunk. He had been afraid of this. “Well how much did you hear?” he said coolly, skillfully not betraying his worry.

“Not much,” she said, glancing off into space as she searched her memory. “Something about blood and semen,” she said with a shudder. “Gross. And the first bit – ‘He is not what he is.’ That was creepy. Any idea what he meant by it?”

Solas gave a convincing shrug. “For once, I haven’t the faintest,” he said, laughing slightly as though amused by his own ignorance. “I didn’t catch those bits,” he lied. “That does sound rather disconcerting.” Then he took her face in his hands, and kissed her on the tip of her nose. She scrunched up her nose, her eyes warm with adoration. He wondered if she could see through him at all, the way he could see through her so easily sometimes.

“Come,” he said, sweeping away his worries as he resigned to another night of forgetting and pretending. “Let us sleep. The ride to Skyhold tomorrow will not be a short one, and, after all that…” He chuckled. “You definitely need your sleep, _ma vhenan_.”

* * *

 

In the morning, they found Blackwall looking very grumpy, and struggling to look either of them in the eye.

“Going to avoid us forever, now?” Rhona asked with a laugh.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s just weird,” he said, but his mouth was twisting into an apologetic smile. “I mean… _this guy_ ,” he pointed his thumb at Solas, who was some feet away, fastening his belongings to his horse. “Who’d have thought _this_ guy could make a lady scream like that.”

It was her turn to avoid Blackwall’s gaze, and she mumbled awkwardly, “Let’s just get a move on,” before scurrying off to her mount, leaving the Grey Warden to his howling laughter. Solas, on the other hand, was feeling particularly smug.

“Solas,” came Cole’s meek voice, and he was surprised to find the boy only a few inches away from him. Surely he hadn’t been there a moment ago…?

“Yes, Cole. What is it?”

“You were hurting her,” he said. “I wanted to help but Blackwall said I shouldn’t. And her heart was screaming not to, also. So I didn't, but... you were afraid,” and Cole’s face suddenly darkened. “Not of hurting her here but of hurting her _there_. Then. Later.”

Solas blinked. His heart was hammering. “It is just a fear. I am certain many people in love also fear that they will hurt their companions.”

“But you are sorry already for the thing that you fear. That… is odd,” he said, and the wisdom in Cole’s abilities was very clear. He tilted his head, so that his face was cast entirely in shadow by the brim of his hat, and Solas could no longer see his eyes. “Do not do the thing you are afraid of doing,” Cole said. He sounded matter-of-fact. “If you hurt her, I will have to hurt you. She is my friend. She hurts others who hurt me, and I will do no less for her.”

He turned his back on the mage, who swallowed hard, brow furrowed, frowning slightly. “You are my friend,” Cole added, and Solas’ heart splintered. That made this so much worse. “I do not want to have to kill my friend.” Solas saw the spirit’s fists clench and unclench. “So don’t hurt her.”

Completely winded, Solas turned back to his horse, but he wasn’t really seeing it. Ahead of him, Rhona was mounting her steed, and her ginger hair shone golden in the morning light. She winked back at him, and he smiled rigidly.

 _Shit_ , he thought to himself. _What have I done_?

* * *

 

 

Audio version of this fic, recorded by me, can be listened to or downloaded [HERE](http://tindeck.com/listen/qwzec).

**Author's Note:**

> Lathbora viran: roughly translated to "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know.


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